RuneScape Forum Archive | Fall From Grace

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"Quite possibly, but it piques my interest nevertheless," Telvern replied. "I suspect if I burrow further into this story, I might acquire something beyond mere skepticism."

"And you plan on going off... without a word?" Raphael continued to lay his assault of distrust upon the genius, one which appeared not to faze him.

"You've nothing to fear," the furtive genius returned. "If I were to depart your company or attempt some sort of underhanded tactic, Lamia or even your own senses would enlighten you of it before I had even the chance to plot it out."

Telvern's lungs then forgo a deep sigh, forcing out his regret and malady. "Your distrust is plausible," he stated with a voice lamenting. "Indeed, I too would harbor such suspicion if in your position..."

Upon the departure of his voice out into the atmosphere, Telvern's legs melted from the stillness of the frigid doubt. He began walking away once more, in spite of Raphael's growing skepticism. The silver-haired young man jumped from his seat upon Telvern's movement, angered. "Hey—!" shouted Raphael as he stood up, but he then felt something which beckoned his attention.

A hand grabbed at his wrist, preventing him to giving chase to Telvern. Raphael diverted his purple gaze into that direction, finding his mentor Malik the one to take hold of his wrist. Malik then shook his head side-to-side, disagreeing with Raphael's need to pursue Telvern. The young man couldn't comprehend his master's decision, his face embittered.

"Why!?" he angrily questioned Malik's intentions. "We can't trust him!"

"Nor can you continue to persecute him," his master replied in earnest.

"What...?" uttered Raphael, without any grasp or understanding.
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09-Mar-2016 17:07:12

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2020

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"Regardless of his past transgressions, he is devoted now to your cause," Malik explained, peering straight into his pupil's eyes. "Raphael... I understand that the last two years haven't been the easiest, I know you've experienced much hardship since my departure. But you mustn't push him away for it, but aid him, guide him towards redemption. Telvern has proven himself time and time again as a valuable, loyal ally to you. Continuing to oppress him will do you no service."

"You'd have me forgive him, forget everything he's done?" the silver-haired prince questioned, anger still boiled just beneath.

"You mustn't forget his wrongs, but neither must you forget that all men deserve a second chance," his master passed on a bold, compelling truth, finding Raphael's teeth grit in frustration.

Like opening a book into the annals of Raphael's history, Malik could just read him. He knew this young man for the entirety of his life, taught him of many things like he were his father. Raphael averted his gaze, peering away from his flame-lit master. Raphael could feel as Malik's grasp slipped from his wrist, knowing that his words were true.

Lamia could sense it too, this raging inferno of ire and resentment be calmed. Malik's words managed to find their way into Raphael as though liquid finding its way through the cracks. It was just like the past, just like yesterday, back when everything made sense... back before Raphael was caught up in the terrible life of war.

He remembered himself as a small boy just trying to make sense of the world, needing his master to explain if he ever had a hope of understanding. It seemed like such an obvious answer, yet Raphael couldn't find such an obvious answer to himself.
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09-Mar-2016 17:07:55

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2020

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Having let go of that pent-up anger, Raphael calmly fell back down the way he came. He settled down back upon the ruined earth, trying his very best to take in his master's suggestion. Still clinging desperately like that last thread which kept two sides together was that message Telvern gave him prior to his departure to Governanti.

"If I can manage the courage to take off this twisted mask, I wish to tell you everything." It seemed so genuine like one last confession before the execution, like one last breath before the absolute end. Did he have the courage now? Would he ever have the courage?

Pondering these many questions certainly consumed a vast amount of time, the night giving way to the light. The crisp, morning sun finally rose over the horribly polluted waters of Taverley, giving life to something filled with death and many other assorted unimaginables. Their awakening brought relief to some of the Lamians, unsure if they were to awaken ever again.

The edge was taken off of the razor-sharp cold, but even still was the wind chill brutal and harsh. It battered those souls like a tidal wave in the winter, stealing a little out of them at a time like beach erosion. Everyone had arisen to meet this day, knowing the task they had in hand. They had to scour the city formerly known as Burthorpe, needing clothing to increase their pitiful chances of survival up in the mountains.

The group banded together, meeting up exactly where they were during the night. Nervously did the lazy assassin Calvin ponder, pacing back and forth. His mind drew out multiple pictures in his head, depicting some fearsome beasts a lot like Telvern's multitude of familiars. He sighed defeatedly, conquered by the frightening beauty of his own imagination.
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09-Mar-2016 17:08:33

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2020

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Finally arriving to the circle of bodies was that very summoner, the air suddenly growing more electric upon his arrival. The eyes of those swathed in black judged him harshly, leading the charge would be Shakir, glaring at the genius with dagger in hand. But Telvern's skin like rubber, such malevolence just bouncing right off of him.

His restless eyes fell upon those leaders in his company, obvious that he had spent the night inside of the confines of his own mind. More specifically, they landed upon Libitina, breeding a conflicted understanding between the two. Malik couldn't help but to take a glance upon them himself, shuffling his eyes between them.

With eagerness and discourage did the group proceed, taking the bumpy path up north. The others living amongst the ancient ruins of the old hamlet of Taverley hid and hissed as the foreigners walked on by, frightened and insecure around them. Guided by Malik and the hooded old man Neeson, Raphael and his fellow rebels journeyed out of the village and into unknown territory.

The destination a little ways away, so the trip was filled with chatter to pass the time. Some remained uniquely quiet, but the air was abuzz indeed. Even despite the hopeless situation, they somehow could find a way to enjoy their time together.

But time flew in the midst of their conversation, the afternoon just nigh of its birth. The whispering winds howled, the forsaken stronghold Burthorpe laid just over yonder. Calvin inspecting the city thoroughly, using his hand like a visor to block the sun's light. The city was large and enshrouded in mountains, a vast range both high and low.

"So dat's Burthorpe, eh?" said the assassin, but then to his fright did his eyes pick up a few large creatures moving on the surface.

He lost his nerve, staggering backward in his step. "Yikes!" he hollered, then rubbing the back of his head as to try to calm himself. "Now I've seen sum big-ol' kalphite befor', but dat's jus' crazy!"
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09-Mar-2016 17:09:15

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2020

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Doing as his superior did, Kereske's eyes reached across the distance. He examined the ruins of Burthorpe, quickly managing to find those trolls himself. Giant beings the size of two men, their skin encased and protruding with rocks, their hands wielding massive weapons that could crush someone like an unhatched egg.

"I-I would have to agree with you, Kéz, " the merchant-turned-assassin concurred, anxiously chucking saliva down his throat.

But never faltering in his step was that hooded old man Neeson, heading on into the dangerous lands without fret. He was not intimidated by their sight, unlike the foreigners in his company. He walked on, wielding an old axe in his hand. It looked much like a battle axe, having a large pick at the back of its head.

Not wanting to allow him to wander into the bowels of the trolls' domain alone, the rest of the group attempted to catch up to him. They drew closer to that place, surrounded by the crumbling rubble and debris of a former civilization. Banners of a lost cause waved in the frigid wind, valiantly bantering a campaign long dead.

They pulled up into this place, trampling upon the bones of the deceased. Just like Taverley, the city was slowly being consumed by the earth. Animals and insects roamed without control, the group watching as deer jetted off the minute they felt something wrong. Locked in an embrace, plants rose up and entangled this place. There was barely a speck of stone or wood on these buildings, vegetation having complete domination over this dominion.

But this place had such a presence of humanity, the scars of battle showed all throughout. Broken off bits of what appeared to be metallic claws littered the ground, even horrendously rusted pieces of armour could be found scattered about. Near complete skeletons were found upon the streets, but some of the bones were missing, most likely re-purposed by some desperate scavengers.
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09-Mar-2016 17:09:56

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They walked this long road winding on ahead of them, a straight, wide path with hollowed-out, partially-collapsed structures along the sides. An intrigued Daevarro absorbed just about every drop that this place could offer, even if such drops were like tears of the fallen. Such a setting was somber, saddening, an unfortunate reminder of just how much this world had lost.

"Damn, dis place's pritty depressin', ain't it?" said Calvin to his allies, his eyes finding bones and all sorts of things humans would hold so dear.

"What did you expect?" Shinon caustically hissed. "Just goes to show you how much we've lost 'cause of those damn gods. If I had it my way, I'd just wipe them all out."

Calvin sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, we know," the assassin acknowledged, having grown tired of Shinon's rather one-sided view. "I still don't think they're all ta blame. There's sum good Solasúians, like dis 'ere ol' fella we're followin'! He seems like-a stand-up—"

"—Shh!" the old man Neeson quickly silenced those in his presence, his amplified hearing able to catch the sound of something alarming ahead of them. Other Solasúians were able to pick apart this very same sound, both Libitina and Daevarro taking the necessary actions to prepare themselves.

Malik turned to Neeson. "How many are there?" the former leader questioned his ally in a hushed tone.

"Three," the old man calculated in an equally low voice, then boldly stepping forward. He went on ahead, readying his axe like he were some sort of executioner.

Others desired to go on with him, but Malik raised his hand up, attempting to stop the incoming traffic. Everyone suddenly hit the brakes, halting in their haste. They looked upon Malik's haggard back, finding a man faithful. Indeed, he was confident in Neeson's ability, knowing others needn't sully their hands.
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09-Mar-2016 17:11:47

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2020

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Taking a trip to the west, Neeson found himself at the edge of a cliff leading into the other side of the city. His icy blue glowing eyes scanning the space ahead of him, there before him were those monstrous beasts of rock among several different buildings. They were making all kinds of noise, a ruckus which rang out throughout the hollow city. Neeson's equally empty eyes locked onto them, firming his grip upon his axe.

His face and body were then punched by a cold fist, the frigid air passing him by. But he was left unfazed, but instead proceeded to use his sense of smell to aid. He sniffed the air, finding a strange, earthy smell like a foul twist on fresh mulch funneling into his nostrils. The true indication of a troll's presence, Neeson recognizing it immediately.

Without even the slightest hesitation, Neeson fearlessly cast himself off the cliff. His foot calmly stepping off of solid ground, his body beginning to drop. He began to fall down along the rocky wall, the whistling speed of his descent catching his ear. The savage cold giving him a good beating as he soared downwards, his clothes whipping and rattling viciously about.

His body crashed down upon the ground, his feet the first to bring thunder. He safely landed upon his feet without ache, a bare minimum of stress placed upon him. His hood removed by the invisible hand of the air, revealing the entirety of his head. But it was the least of his concerns, his eyes or his mind never diverted from those before him.

A bit of a distance from them, but still close enough to enact care. Neeson paced ahead like a predator, his back hunched over and his step cautious. By doorway of vegetation, Neeson entered a street. From there, his vehemently concentrated mind fixated upon those trolls in his presence, becoming the center of his universe for this ephemeral moment.
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09-Mar-2016 17:12:31

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A triad of trolls just in front of him, picking at the corpse of one of their fallen. Their jaws and the crown of their heads made of solid rock, their large, muscular bodies protruding with jagged stone. Neeson had recognized that carcass as the one he had previously taken out, but such a thought barely lived for a second in his mind.

"Me bored outta skull," cried one of the trolls, the only one refusing to investigate the lifeless body. The troll then had a wondrous idea, a spark of brutal creativity. "Let go kill human!"

Another troll rose up from the fallen body, appearing in accordance to the other troll. "Get human who get Oof!" the troll reveled in the cause, raising high a large, dead tree he carried around as a weapon.

In the midst of their aspirations, they couldn't help but to hear a strange noise, repeating over and over again. They turned to its source, but would find then something rather disturbing. The bored troll found dropping to its knees, its head nearly completely detached from its body. It hung on there by a mere strap of flesh and muscle, dangling down its back like a hood.

Blood profusely spewed, showering down upon the rough stone pathway beneath them. The trolls were obviously shocked by this, shuffling their heads around frantically, perhaps in a comedic attempt to make sure that their own heads were actually on their bodies. They wanted to find the perpetrator of this most heinous act, looking to find the puny human.

Across the field stood those who Neeson had left behind, Raphael and the others having rushed to go into battle along with Neeson. But in the midst of the rush was the cliff, a frightening sight which forced a sudden and heart-pounding halt. Its scary and abrupt appearance made gray hairs grow across the place, nervous sweat coming out like bullets.

"Well, d-dat was close..." sheepishly muttered the lazy assassin Calvin, unable to cease his shaky voice.
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09-Mar-2016 17:14:05 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2016 13:42:41 by Serene End

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Raphael gripped his teeth in frustration, quickly twisting his body to his right. He ran down, trying to find a way around the cliff. Most of the others followed behind Raphael's haste, but Shinon stood his ground. He stood over the edge, taking it easy. He was pretty confident that Neeson had it handled, sitting down and watching the show.

After a fairly thorough search, the trolls finally found him. Neeson stood there, his axe and left side drenched in blood. His callous, icy eyes piercing them, a hunter having found his prey. Enraged by this attack, they immediately lashed out at him. They each took a shot, one swinging its huge wooden club horizontally, the other smashing its tree-for-a-weapon into the ground.

Stone were broken up from the fragile pathway in the wake of the troll's tree attack, but they found nothing to indicate the human's death. No mangled bones, no goopy man-paste, not even a satisfying death cry. They were notably perplexed by this happening, not sure of what exactly occurred. But then, the troll with the club then began to feel much discomfort and something dripping.

It looked down, finding its abdomen turned into an opened purse. Roaming freely outside of their fleshy cage were all of the troll's guts, stacking up in front of it like crudely wrapped-up hosing. Such a bloody pile would be a bed in which the troll would fall upon, its thundering crash suppressing the sickening, putrid squish of its organs.

The troll fell, its face resting, smothered in a pool of its crushed organs and bodily fluids. The troll with the tree took notice of its fallen comrade, its big, oval eyes ripping Neeson apart. It lifted that tree up over its rocky head, its powerful muscles thickening. In one vicious, earth-shaking roar, the troll hammered that tree-for-a-weapon downwards upon Neeson.
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09-Mar-2016 17:14:53

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2020

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Neeson quickly jolted off to his right, unfazed by the deafening explosion of noise and debris brought by the troll's vigorous attack. In the midst of his jump, he realized that this troll had left itself exposed, allowing the old man the chance to attack. He flipped his axe to its pick side, his eyes glued onto the troll's left side.

He launched his weapon so fast that it looked like an attack made in an instant, his pick managing to pierce even the troll's rocky hide. The troll let out a painful yelp, finding a great agony take its left side. Its vision went red, gone berserk at the sight of its own blood. It clenched its left hand, stone making that hand like a gauntlet.

" DIE HUMAN!! " the beast furiously bellowed, slamming its hand down. It came down upon Neeson, a furious avalanche aiming to absolutely crush the old man. The troll was confident of its victory, eager to see the tiny human turned to a big, gooey pile of flesh. But something was off, a strange force preventing its fist from meeting the ground.

No matter how much power and raw strength the troll put in its arm, all it would do was shake and ache. Down below its thunderous fist, Neeson had raised his right hand up above his head in defense, managing to cease the troll's attack with just his hand alone. The ground shattered beneath Neeson's feet, overwhelmed by the enormous force coming down upon it.

The old man then pushed back, using all the strength in him to send the troll's arm up and away from him. The troll's arm was forcibly pushed away and it staggered off-balanced, its left leg remained grounded while its right leg flailed in the air like a poor attempt at ballet. A look of utter bewilderment took to its face, its rock jaw hanging agape.
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09-Mar-2016 17:16:17 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2016 13:49:18 by Serene End

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